


Just Like Every Other Morning

by queen_ve



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau-Centric, Early Mornings, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Future Fic, literally just so much fluff, no plot just gay introspection, set at an indeterminate time post ep 99, unbeta'd we die like men, very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_ve/pseuds/queen_ve
Summary: Beau feels light-- lighter than she has in weeks. Sure, she’s in an adventuring party dealing with the tail end of a war in a highly politically unstable atmosphere that ends up fighting giant crabs by accident on a good day. But she wouldn’t really have it any other way. This is her family, after all-- it’s endlessly chaotic, dysfunctional, and secretive, but it's hers.Or: Beau has some fuzzy feelings about her family (and is also very gay).
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & The Mighty Nein, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	Just Like Every Other Morning

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first critical role fic, y'all. I told myself i wasn't going to get sucked in and... then this happened 
> 
> Also full disclaimer, i have not actually seen most of campaign 2. A lot of my knowledge comes from the fandom, spoilers, other fics, etc. If anyone seems slightly ooc, that's probably why. This is mostly just me really wanting to write fluff for these two bc i love my girls. 
> 
> Anyways, happy reading!

Beau wakes up to the sound of gentle breathing. The bed is warm and comfortable, and though the sky outside the window is perpetually dark in Rosohna, Beau’s internal clock is irritatingly accurate. Her eyelids are still heavy with sleep as she rubs at them halfheartedly. Even years after leaving the monastery, she still can’t manage to sleep in-- a habit only strengthened by the time later spent rising early for each day of adventuring. As Beau sits up, wincing at the leftover aches and pains from yesterday’s fighting, she glances at the bed’s other occupant and her breath catches. 

Jester always looks beautiful. That’s a given. But right now, with the pale moonlight streaming in and her silky blue hair scattered across the pillow, Jester looks radiant. Her bare shoulders are scattered with tiny freckles, her deep breaths making a gentle huffing sound every few seconds. Beau finds herself falling a little more with each passing moment. 

This is never something she thought she would get to have. She’s spent so many years angry at her fucked up childhood, at the world, at herself. Even after years spent with the Nein, she sometimes feels like she’ll wake up to find it an elaborate dream. Beau isn’t particularly special. She can’t control time itself with a spell, or bring someone back from the dead with only faith and a diamond. She sometimes wonders if she even belongs in this makeshift group of reluctant heroes. But she loves this family she’s made fiercely. She knows with startling clarity that she would die for any of them in an instant. It sounds over dramatic and cliché even to her, but it’s true. It’s a little terrifying, the ease with which that ultimatum appears and how little it surprises her. 

She can hear a voice in the back of her mind that sounds suspiciously like Caleb saying, _are we really starting with the self-sacrificial bullshit this early, Beauregard?_ Even in her head, he’s annoyingly reasonable. 

A soft yawn pulls her out of her early morning ponderings, along with a blue arm coming up to rub at sleep-heavy eyes. Jester stretches as she turns to face Beau, arching her back in a way that leaves Beau’s mouth a little dry. The tiefling lets out a satisfied hum before flopping back onto the sheets and staring up at Beau through her long, navy lashes. 

“Why are you _up_ , Beau? We don’t have to leave for like, _three whole hours_ , y’know.” Her accent is adorably strong this early, vowels rounded and stretched in her sleepy and slightly accusatory voice. Beau is, impossibly, more endeared than ever by her girlfriend. 

“Yeah, but you know I can’t sleep past dawn, Jes,” Beau says as she reaches over to gently tuck a strand of hair behind Jester’s ear. “Plus, Essek said we were meeting at seven o’clock for our new assignment. That’s definitely not three hours from now.” Beau makes a valiant effort to stifle her laughter as Jester’s fake pout grows into a real pout. 

The small frown quickly transforms into a sly smile, however, as the other girl wiggles her eyebrows and says, “Maybe you should help wake me up, then.” This time, Beau laughs for real as she leans over and kisses her girlfriend. Jester tastes like mint, like how her magic feels, and Beau realizes why as soon as a familiar soothing rush of healing tingles down her spine, easing bruises and scrapes as it goes. She pulls away with a frown, question poised on her lips, but Jester interrupts with an eye roll and a dramatic sigh before she can ask. “I can literally see you grimacing, Beau. And I know it's not because of my fabulous kissing, so it must be because you went to bed without putting on the cream Cad gave you like a _dumbass_.” Dammit. Jester really is more perceptive than most people give her credit for.

Beau is torn between feeling insulted and touched, so she settles for the happy medium of exasperation. “You shouldn’t waste your spells on stuff like that, Jes. I feel fine, I promise.”

Jester crosses her arms, looking doubtful. “You got beat up by a giant crab yesterday.”

“Hey, we _all_ got beat up by a giant crab, okay? I didn’t even get knocked out!” Beau feels this is a fairly unjust assessment of what hadn’t even been one of the worse battles they’d endured. She’s about to protest more when she sees Jester worrying her lip between her fangs, and pauses. “Jes, what’s this really--” 

Jester sighs and stares up at Beau with imploring purple eyes, and _fuck,_ Beau is weak for her. “If you won’t take care of yourself, you’ve got to at least let me take care of you!” 

Oh. _Oh_. 

Sometimes, Beau still forgets that she has people who actually care about her now. People who care whether she’s hurt or safe, lonely or loved. People who worry about her when she forgets to worry about herself. It’s strange, she thinks. Strange, but nice, to be reminded that even if she gets beat up an embarrassing amount by a giant crab, someone loves her enough to heal even the smallest of her injuries afterwards.

Whatever Jester sees in her face must echo her internal realizations, because Jester’s expression softens and she sings-songs, “that’s right, Beau, I looove you. And you’re stuck with me forever!” 

“What a shame.” Beau grins as she leans in again. There’s no mint this time, but she’s entranced by the softness of Jester’s lips, the sweet sounds she makes as she hums into Beau’s mouth, the fluttering feeling that rises in her chest even after all this time. She’ll never get tired of this. She doesn’t think she’ll ever stop feeling surprised that she somehow wound up lucky enough to wake up next to _Jester Lavorre_ every single morning. 

Beau is lost enough in the gentle rhythm of the kiss that she doesn’t notice Jester’s eyes open, or the calculating look that appears in them. She lets out a surprised yelp as Jester suddenly surges upward and flips their positions, cackling. She’s now half trapped under Jester’s body, wheezing slightly at the sudden new weight on her torso.

Jester’s smiling smugly as she announces, “Now you _can’t_ get up early! Ha.”

Beau had nearly forgotten about that at this point. Honestly, she’s not exactly complaining at the prospect of staying wrapped up in bed with her very beautiful, very naked girlfriend. Jester’s soft skin is brushing nearly every part of her body as she sprawls on top of her, which means Beau’s mind is somewhat short-circuiting. Somehow, Jester still smells like the lavender soap she had bought while shopping with Veth yesterday, which is frankly unfair considering Beau is pretty sure she just smells like sweat. And anyways, she’s not sure she’s strong enough to push Jester off even if she wanted to. Her girlfriend has serious biceps.

“Oh no,” Beau deadpans. “What _ever_ will I do?” Hearing the tiny giggles escaping Jester makes playing along well worth it, especially as Jester presses another short, sweet kiss to her mouth. She’s just about to start running her fingers along Jester’s ribs (where she’s especially ticklish) in retaliation, when there’s a rapping at the door.

“Beau, Jes, you guys up yet?” Fjord’s muffled voice pushes into the room. Beau and Jester look at each other, then the door.

“....No.” 

Fjord lets out a long suffering sigh. “Really? Fine. We’re meeting Essek in an hour, though. Please don’t make me come in there.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Beau calls out retroactively. She can’t see Fjord’s face, but she can _hear_ him rolling his eyes.

As soon as footsteps sound again, the two women dissolve into giggles. Weird, Beau thinks. She never really giggled before meeting Jester. The tiefling stops laughing long enough to stage whisper, _“Fjord’s using his Mom Voice again.”_

The faint “I _heard_ that,” echoes down the hallway, sending Beau into another fit. 

As she begins the process of dragging herself and a protesting Jester out of bed, Beau feels light-- lighter than she has in weeks. Sure, she’s in an adventuring party dealing with the tail end of a war in a highly politically unstable atmosphere that ends up fighting giant crabs by accident on a good day. But she wouldn’t really have it any other way. This is her family, after all-- it’s endlessly chaotic, dysfunctional, and secretive, but it's _hers_.

And she feels light, light, light every time Caleb marks a book passage because he thinks she would find it interesting, every time Caduceus has a cup of tea ready before she even knew she wanted one, every time Fjord claps her on the back and proudly calls her his First Mate. 

It’s in the way Yasha carefully helps her shave her undercut every few weeks. 

It’s whenever Veth makes her a lopsided flower crown just ‘cause she felt like it. 

It’s how she swears she hears a faint chuckle in her ear every time she pulls out Molly’s tarot cards (" _You still don’t know how to use those, do you?”_ ).

It’s every kiss, every smile, every touch Jester gives her day after day, and the seemingly endless abundance of joy each one sparks in her chest. 

(Not that she would ever admit any of this out loud, of course. Beau has a reputation to uphold. 

Except maybe if Jester asked her to, because, well. Beau is a weak woman.)

The lightness she feels is like one of Jester’s healing spells coursing through her veins. With each passing day, the old hurts get smoothed a little more, years worth of bitterness and insecurity slowly eroding. All that’s left behind is faded scars to remind her of where she’s been, and a lingering warmth that she knows will always lead her home.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have probably misrepresented Cure Wounds, but it's about the romance, people
> 
> Title is from How Far We've Come by Matchbox Twenty bc why not (and it feels like a very Beau song in my opinion)
> 
> As always, let me know if you enjoyed in the comments, suggestions/constructive criticism are always welcome :)


End file.
